Obligation
by LoyalIndys
Summary: There was an obligation to the heart, and an obligation to the Admiralty. The choice between them would become the demise of them all.


**A/N:** First chapter of a new framework narrative! (Huzzay.) We own Harrobye, and we own Fish. Other than that, we just put in the story, yeah? We no touchie, because we don't own. This is a co-write between myself and a friend of mine. Hope it's enjoyed, please R&R!

The day was completely inappropriate for a funeral. The sun shone in the bright blue sky, and it was comfortably warm for the time of year. Southend-On-Sea was a quiet town, with houses and shops owned by families and businessmen alike resting on the beach. The town was also a popular port, and every year, festivals and parties were part of the daily routine in the summer months. The houses were grand for the most part, resting close to the water along with other things of necessity for the townspeople. Across the way, a church stood by the coast, with the waves washing up on shore all but fifty feet away from the main door. The bell in the steeple had a dismal, dark sound as it called the town together to mourn.

Inside, the church was simple. There were no grand stained glass windows, there were no fine pews, and there was no grand organ. The altar itself was rather small and simple, with a wooden casket lying open for the guests to see.

In this casket was a young woman of twenty-five years, resting in a bed of padding. In her entwined hands was a rosary, with the simple wooden cross resting on top of her long, slender fingers. A bicorn hat with the markings of a Commander rested under her arms, and her youthful face gave an expression of peace and tranquility, even in death.

There was a feeling of breathlessness, as though the mourners in the pews thought it would be unfair to breathe when she could not. Even so, there was not a perfect silence in the room, even if these kinds of matters are often thought of in such easily regarded terms. The ancient wood beneath their feet made soft protest. A soft breeze blew in from the sea and rattled the doors held open by a Marine guard, and in the back of the room a child fussed quietly to itself.

Five officers had all pressed themselves side by side into the pew at the front of the church. They wore their full dress. They had discussed it in detail, what they would wear. That had been after they'd heard the news. Might they only go in civilian clothes? The idea of uniforms, such a vain grandiosity seemed inappropriate, under the circumstances. But in the end, they'd decided only their best uniforms would be appropriate, accompanied by the thick black armband tied above their elbows. Not in ceremony for themselves, but for her.

All in a row, four blue coats ended with a set of hunched shoulders clad in red. They'd removed their hats out of respect, and now sat listlessly together, aware that there should have been a sixth. The room remained silent, almost waiting for the sixth to arrive. The wind continued to blow in through the doors, yet the Marine guard stood proudly erect, never blinking or fidgeting.

When the sixth did arrive, there was no grand welcome, only a few glances as the man made his way up the carpeted altar to where the other officers sat. He removed his bicorn, and motioned to the empty seat next to the man in red. Without even a polite greeting, the man slowly nodded, and the Naval officer sat down.

For the other onlookers in the church, the front row was quite a sight to see. Five men and one woman were seated, each with their own tale to tell expressed on their face. The oldest man, although peaceful, had an overwhelmingly sad aura to him, and the woman seated next to him was the same. A young Lieutenant was next, as he sat quietly, not knowing quite what to make of the situation. As a silent tear left his right eye, he quickly brushed it away, hoping the elder officers wouldn't see the more than appropriate sign of weakness. Seated next to the Lieutenant was another, who sat proudly despite his feeling of blackness. His gaze was far off into the distance, as he wished that things would have ended in a different way.

The streak of blue was interrupted by an overwhelming red. Amidst the Naval officers sat a Major, clad in an Army uniform. This man, unlike the others, was hunched over, and his head rested in the palms of his hands as he tried not to sob.

At the very end of the pew sat an isolated man in blue, the sixth man to show up at the service. His uniform displayed the rank of a Captain, as he sat with no emotion carved on his stone face.

Sand gave way to a small patch of grass behind the church, barred off from the shore by a delicate black iron fence. Several of the mourners found themselves wishing to kick down that fence. Obliterate it, and curse it for separating that small cemetery from the sea. The pall bearers, those six lonely officers, having filled their roles with infinite care, then stepped away from the casket and folded their hands in front of them, as though they were prepared to wait there until the person inside it awoke.

Once the casket was placed in its' permanent home, the hole in the earth was sealed with dirt, and the coffin was no longer visible to the party. The older man put a gentle arm around the woman's shoulders, slowly leading her away from the sight, as the two Lieutenants followed. The man in red, however, stayed by the newly dug grave, and its' newly placed headstone bearing the name of a woman whom he very much loved. He looked at the headstone for a few moments before rising and quickly turning, failing to notice that one Naval officer still remained. The Major tried to go around the man, but the man wasn't very keen on letting him leave. "Will you let me pass?"

The officer's face remained unmoved as he looked at the man clad in bright red. "Not until I speak with you first."

"You have nothing to say to me, as I have nothing to say to you." The Major replied, trying to keep his authoritative personality alive despite what he was feeling.

"What's the matter? Is Missus Edrington waiting for you?"

"_Lady _Edrington," the Major corrected, before turning around and looking at the grave, "And she rests right there."

Rage brewed up inside the Naval officer as he heard the Major speak of his wife as if he owned her. Without thinking, his right arm rapidly lifted as if to hit the Major across the face, but it was stopped.

Despite his anger with the Naval officer, the Major slowly put the enraged man's arm back down. "Because she is dead I'll forgive you for that. Once."

"How _dare_ you speak of my wife as if you owned her!"

Edrington sighed with a slight smile playing at his lips: "I owned her in heart, yes, Mister Hornblower, but I could never tame her spirit."

Hornblower also smiled a bit: "She did have quite the spirit, didn't she?"

Edrington's brown eyes looked black to Hornblower as he hissed: "The spirit she had before you took it from her."

The remark clearly stung Hornblower, as he exhaled sharply, trying to keep his self control. Seeking the opportunity, the Major brushed past him, and walked briskly towards the exit of the cemetery, intending to leave all the horrible memories behind him.

However, he was stopped by a phrase muttered quietly by Hornblower. A phrase that tore him apart and threatened to rip his heart from his chest.

"Am I really that different than I used to be?"


End file.
